


i know the world's a broken bone

by officialmarsrover



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Concussions, Hurt/Comfort, this is really gay but they arent together yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7371505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officialmarsrover/pseuds/officialmarsrover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ronan checks on adam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i know the world's a broken bone

After Adam had been released from the hospital, stolen Gansey's car, and even after he had seen Whelk trampled in Cabeswater, his headaches had still not gone away.

He's used to this, of course. Concussions are nothing new for him. After an MRI, the doctors had concluded that he was free of any imminent danger, but had given him a very strong warning to not, under any circumstances, do any more mentally involved activities than were strictly necessary.

Adam, being Adam, has absolutely no intention of doing that.

He knows he's being irrational, but he sort of sees the note the ER doctors had given him as a cheap way out. It's the easy route. No, Adam deserves to work for everything, like he always has, brain injuries be damned. His four pages of calculus and term paper on Tudor history are decidedly not going anywhere. And how bad, really, could it be?

However, he finds that sitting down and focusing is a lot harder than usual. Pain sears through his skull and he ignores it as long as he can, but after ten minutes he is always forced to give up, reluctantly giving in to his brain's desperate pleas for rest. But why, now, was it so hard? He had always been able to push through it before, just pay no mind to the pain and keep going. But not now.

His father had never really cared (or been sober enough to care) how much he hurt his son, but the fact that he had completely lost it and injured Adam to the point where he needed an MRI and can't focus on anything makes it even more scary. He prefers not to think about that, though, much like how he prefers not to think about how if Ronan hadn't stepped in he'd probably be dead.

Unfortunately for Adam, he has a lot of time to think. The day after Whelk's death, a Friday, class had been cancelled partially out of respect and partially out of the school scrambling to find a new Latin teacher. Adam is okay with this. Less school means less to do, of course, and much less mental taxation (although, again, more time alone with his thoughts), but he's still working his three jobs and balancing his schoolwork. Subtract classes and add a brain injury, and this is much harder than he previously thought.

So when someone pounds on his door at 1 AM while he's trying to work on his chemistry homework, he's understandably irritated.

(He's irritated a lot, these days, but he chooses to ignore the implications of that and chalks it up to fatigue. Which, to be fair, he has a lot more of.)

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Nice to see you too, Parrish." Ronan's voice is loud, but Adam is very much used to smelling alcohol on someone's breath and Ronan definitely isn't drunk. Adam thinks it's maybe just his head.

"Why are you here?" He snaps. "I have to be up for work in six hours. This better be important." Ronan doesn't flinch. Fighting is normal, for them. It's almost good. Adam likes normal.

"Gansey said to check up on you." Adam thinks Gansey probably didn't mean at one in the morning on a Saturday, but he lets it go. "We haven't seen you since Whelk died. You think you can just disappear off the face of the fucking earth?" Oh. Okay. No fighting, then. Just badly concealed concern under the pretense of anger. Ronan glances around the apartment. "Jesus, Parrish, are you doing fucking homework?"

Adam chooses not to respond to that. He tries to move towards the door to check the locks, but stumbles as the floor suddenly starts to spin.

Ronan is at his side in a second. "Fuck. Hey. Adam, you need to sit down."

His voice is soft, and very uncharacteristic of Ronan (especially the use of his first name), but Adam feels too shitty to pay much mind to it. He vaguely feels Ronan leading him to the half-deflated air mattress in the corner of his apartment, his stomach protesting wildly as he moves.

"Jesus. Look at me."

Adam blinks at him wearily. The light is too, too bright and he winces as his head throbs in pain. "'m not Jesus."

"Very fucking funny, Adam."

"Hurts," he mumbles.

"Does it hurt worse than before?"

Adam chews on his lip, trying to think, but his brain is too foggy to come up with much of anything. "Don't think so. 'S kind of hard to tell. Uh..." He thinks some more. "Um. No."

"You sure? This is important."

"Hm. Yes. I mean, no. It's not worse. It just hurts."

Ronan sighs, but for once, he doesn't sound angry. He just sounds sad and worried, but even in his semi-aware state Adam can see there's no trace of pity in his face. He's grateful, at least, for that. "Yeah, I know. Do you have any painkillers?"

"There's stuff in the thing," he responds, gesturing to his bathroom. Ronan stands up. Thankfully, he seems to understand what Adam means.

"Don't move."

"Can't."

"Good." In a few moments, Ronan is back at his side, a chipped mug full of cold water in one hand and two reddish pills in the other. "Take these."

Adam does. As he swallows the pills and chases them with water, he feels the air mattress dip next to him and smells Ronan's ridiculous cologne. "The hell have you been doing? Gansey's worried. It's annoying as fuck." Ronan doesn't say it, but Adam hears it in his voice. He knows Ronan is worried too.

Adam is still trying to make sense of what Ronan is doing here, but he finds he's having some trouble forming the thought into words. He shrugs, slumping against the wall and shutting his eyes. "Trying to catch up on work."

Ronan tenses up. Ah. Now he was angry. "Fucking hell, Parrish."

"Don't wanna fall behind."

"Do you fucking understand how a concussion works?" Ronan stands up and sifts through the papers on Adam's plastic crate nightstand. His hand lands on an unsealed envelope and he unfolds the contents. "Henrietta Memorial Hospital, huh?"

Adam grabs at the letter, knowing full well he's too far away and uncoordinated to actually get it. "Give that back."

"'I examined Adam Parrish on April 6, 2012, after he experienced a serious fall and was brought to the emergency room. I concluded that he had sustained a severe concussion, as well as several improperly healed fractures and breaks. Although he has been cleared of immediate danger, given the level of neurological damage that may have been sustained from repeat concussions resulting from prolonged physical abuse by his father I strongly recommend that when he returns to class he abstain from schoolwork, testing, papers and gym class until his symptoms completely subside.' What the fuck are you doing not giving this to your teachers?"

Adam doesn't answer. He's finding it very difficult to concentrate on Ronan's words, and they're _loud._ He covers his ears with his hands (both, out of habit, although he bitterly realizes that isn't necessary anymore) and squeezes his eyes shut, praying desperately for everything to just stop.

Ronan suddenly goes very quiet. He moves slowly, slowly, slowly back towards Adam.

"Do you want the light off?"

Adam nods. He hears a click, then feels Ronan sit back down next to him.

"I'm just worried, okay?" Ronan isn't looking at him, just kind of staring at the wall. His voice is barely above a whisper, and Adam prays he doesn't see his shock. The dark seems to be making him brave. "I - We just want you to be safe. This is your _brain_. You gotta take care of yourself, man."

 _I don't know how to do that_.

"My father," he mutters.

Ronan turns his head towards him. "What?"

"My father," he tells him, a little louder, his voice shaking.

Ronan reaches for his hand, carefully. "I know," Adam takes a breath. "I know I'll have to take him to court. Everything will come out. I know. But I just-" He swallows the lump in his throat. "I don't know, Ronan, I don't know." He's having trouble keeping his thoughts straight, and he realizes he isn't entirely talking about the letter anymore.  
  
Ronan squeezes his hand. Adam knows that this should be strange. It should be terrible and awkward and difficult, but it isn't. It's new, but it doesn't seem wrong.  
  
"Do you... Want to talk about it?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he says, his voice starting to shake a little.  
  
"That's okay," Ronan says softly.  
  
"It's not!" Adam feels himself starting to panic. "I don't have any money, Ronan. My intelligence is my only way out of here, and if I lose that, I'm nothing!" He's talking about more than his intelligence, too. And Ronan, fucking Ronan, he knows. He turns to face Adam and grabs his other hand.  
  
"Listen to me. Hey, listen." Adam can see his face, just a bit, illuminated by the light from the small, dirty window on the far wall. He looks sincere, more sincere and caring than Adam has ever seen him. "Don't fucking say that, Adam. You are so far from nothing. You mean so much to us. To Gansey, to Noah, to Blue, to me." His voice is intense, but somehow gentle at the same time.

Adam doesn't quite know what to say to that. Thankfully, Ronan doesn't seem to be waiting for a response. After a few seconds, he looks away, his cheeks reddening slightly.

Ronan's breaths are even and slow. In, out. In, out. It's calming, in a way. So Adam just sits there and listens to the sound of Ronan's breath.

Adam's head feels heavy and also light at the same time, and he doesn't know how that's possible, but it doesn't feel good. His stomach is churning, and he can't tell whether it's from his head or his anxiety. Probably both.

"I feel awful."

Ronan chuckles. "That's 'cause you aren't resting, idiot. Do you have a blanket?"

Adam's cheeks burn. He reaches beside the mattress and lifts up a thin, ratty sheet. "Here," he mutters.

"Jesus. You need a better fucking blanket."

"I don't need charity," Adam says despite himself. It just sort of slips out, and he regrets it the second he says it, but Ronan doesn't look hurt.

"It's not charity if you already have one." Adam doesn't really have the energy to argue. He wants to tell Ronan that, well, it isn't really a blanket, but Ronan probably knows.

"Are - Are you going to-"

"Sleep here? Yes, Parrish. I need to make sure you get some fucking rest."

Adam hesitates. He desperately, desperately wants to know why Ronan is helping him, why Ronan _cares_ , but he knows better than to ask that.

"Fine." Adam lies down on the air mattress, ignoring his racing heart. "Just shut up so I can sleep."

Ronan doesn't respond. Adam is incredibly tired. So tired, in fact, that there would be no way to know if he unconsciously rolled over and curled up against Ronan's side. It could have just been a dream.

And maybe it's a dream, too, when Ronan wraps his arm around him and smiles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> first of all im sorry if this is out of character i mostly wrote this in between studying for finals so i havent had time to actually read trc in. a while rip  
> i wrote this bc i was frustrated at the lack of adam/ronan interaction after the fight with robert parrish and i thought that there was no way adam had no major injuries other than his partial deafness and also concussions SUCK especially when you dont follow instructions (word of advice kids listen to your fucking doctors or youre in for a world of pain)  
> also i know the ending is shit im sorry,,, i dont know how to end things yikes  
> the title is from northern downpour by panic at the disco bc im still emo apparently. its been 84 years (also... melt your headaches... and if all our life is but a a dream... get it... im tired)  
> thank you for reading!!!


End file.
